


You Were the Quiet Moment Stolen from the Chaos

by Taaroko



Series: After [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Episode: s01e10 Virtue of the Vicious, F/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2019-02-15 15:11:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13033803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taaroko/pseuds/Taaroko
Summary: She hadn’t wanted him involved because she’d thought that would mean him killing on her behalf. It had never occurred to her that he would almost get himself killed protecting her.





	You Were the Quiet Moment Stolen from the Chaos

**Author's Note:**

> I've been working on a post-S1 Kastle fic, but I was having trouble with it and I realized I needed to explore the events of "Virtue of the Vicious" to calibrate the characters before I started dealing with any After™. I watched the episode several times for this and only got three hours of sleep because of it. I regret nothing. 
> 
> I'm thoroughly convinced this was the episode where each of them realized they were in legit non-platonic love with each other AND that the feeling was mutual. (Not that those feelings weren't there before then, but if they were, they were being dummies about it.) I pretty much wrote this entire fic to explain my reasoning. Enjoy!

After the bombings and even after the threats to herself, Karen hadn’t wanted Frank to get involved. She’d helped him in his personal crusade of vengeance—not because she wanted more people dead (though she certainly wasn’t sorry there were fewer murderous scumbags running loose), but because she hoped it would lead him to the answers he needed in order to lay it all to rest and move on with his life. After what he had lost, she fiercely believed he deserved that much, if it was possible. She didn’t want him repaying her by killing even more people, this time on her behalf.

All that was what she had thought before walking into a seemingly well-protected hotel room to interview a politician.

Lewis Wilson might well have gone the way of James Wesley if ANVIL hadn’t relieved Karen of her .380 down in the lobby. Instead, she’d had to beg the man who just blew up half the room not to shoot the cowering senator, her ears ringing so loudly that she could barely hear her own voice. She’d had a split second to realize that not only was pleading _not_ going to work, but she would be the one Lewis was going to shoot first. And then Frank came barreling out of nowhere, diving in front of her to take the bullet that would’ve gone through her head and at least two more. She tried to get out of there, even managed to grab a gun on her way out, but Lewis caught her around the neck before she could flee with Ori and held her trapped with her back to him.

Of all the times Karen had come close to death, this had to rank in at least the top three for most terrifying. Lewis Wilson was clutching a dead man’s switch, and he was long past the mental point of no return. The gun in Frank’s hand was as useless as the ones the surviving ANVIL guards carried and the one in her purse. She could even see terror in Frank’s eyes as he looked into hers.

“I will come for you,” he promised as Lewis jerked her backwards into the elevator.

She was still terrified, but she believed him.

X

Nothing—not the bullet outta Billy Russo’s gun that came half an inch from splattering his brain against the wall next to Madani, not the many bruises forming on his torso where bullets had struck the vest, not his right arm hanging useless at his side after being yanked out of joint when the firehose ran out, not his messed up right ankle from landing on it after the fall, not the fact that he had no gun while Wilson had a bomb— _nothing_ was gonna stop Frank from getting Karen out of here alive. He moved as if on autopilot, the pain of his wounds barely registering against that single goal.

He figured Wilson was gonna try to find somewhere he could hunker down. Somewhere with space to maneuver and not a lot of ways for anyone to get the jump on him. He didn’t have to look far before he found cops calling for backup, standing outside a pair of double doors in the basement. Bingo. The cops were so focused on what was through the doors that Frank was able to knock one out with a left hook to the temple, snatch his gun out of his hand on the way down, and pistol-whip the other one before he could do more than yell in surprise.

On the other side of the doors, Wilson had already started yelling threats, so Frank gritted his teeth and made himself drop the cop’s gun before he kicked the door open and walked in with his good hand up. “Wilson! I’m unarmed. I’m unarmed.”

“Stay back!” Wilson had Karen trapped against him, but she still looked like she was holding it together better than either of them. The kid was at the frayed end of his rope, shouting that he’d drop the switch if Frank took one more step.

All Frank could think of doing was to try stalling and distracting him until he could get close enough to take him out while keeping his hand clamped on the switch, but when he moved forward, Wilson shouted another warning, more panicked this time.

Frank froze, breath catching. Through mounting panic, he noticed the same three colors coming out of that detonator as there had been on the bomb strapped to Curtis, and that was when he knew how Karen was gonna make it out of this. He just had to help her see how to do it. So he started talking again, spouting some bullshit about how Wilson was right that they were the same _(they were NOT the same)_ and how it could be just the two of them _(yeah, right up close and personal so Frank could bury his KA-BAR in Wilson’s throat, for Curtis and Karen and all those innocent people caught in the first three explosions)_. Karen’s eyes were glued to him, waiting for him to give her a sign. Attagirl.

“When we were with Curtis,” he said, eyes on Karen. “You told me to pull that white wire. You did the right thing, kid.” Karen’s gaze flicked to the detonator switch, then back to Frank. He nodded. “You can do it again.” _You can do this, Karen. Just like when Schoonover had his gun to your head in that car._ “Let her go.”

He took another step and Wilson flipped out, dragging Karen back, waving the switch around and shouting some more. “Goddammit, kid, goddammit,” Frank growled, pacing along an invisible perimeter like a caged tiger. “Didn’t your father teach you not to hurt a woman?” All the ways he could kill this piece of shit were flickering through his mind, even though he knew not a one of them would help Karen right now. Plan or no plan, one wrong move and she was dead, and he was so terrified he could barely think straight.

“My father has nothing to do with this,” said Wilson.

Was that what he really believed? Or had he actually thought about his father for a single second since he set out on his bombing spree? Well, setting him straight about that would buy him and Karen more time, even if it wouldn’t change the kid’s mind, so that was what Frank did.

After he’d been talking a while, Karen’s hand crept slowly to the wires. Wilson had moved his detonator hand down across her chest, so they were in easy reach. Good. She got her thumb and forefinger around one wire. The black one. Frank shook his head, still talking. She tried again. Red. Another head shake.

“We’re creatures of habit, Wilson. Right? We like to do the same thing over and over and over again.” Karen had found the white wire this time. Frank nodded. He could barely breathe. She was so close. “It’s just like women and their goddamn bags, right? I mean look at her. After everything she’s been through, she’s still got that bag around her neck. Miss Page, I imagine you could tell me everything you have in that bag, right?”

She smiled. A dangerous smile. The teeth-baring smile of a woman with a loaded gun on her that she knew how to use, and that smile was the most beautiful thing Frank had ever seen. “Yep.” She put her right hand into her purse.

“Now, Wilson, you’re a creature of habit if I’ve ever seen one,” said Frank, his voice low. Karen nodded at him. Here went everything. “Do it _now_ , Karen! Do it now!” With a yell, she ripped the white wire free. Startled, Wilson was a second late releasing the switch. The gun rang out, and the toe of his boot erupted in blood. He cried out in pain and Frank ran forward with a wordless roar. Karen leapt away from Wilson and into Frank’s arms, and Wilson staggered back into the freezer, snapping the door shut after him.

Frank let Karen go and went for the freezer. He could hear her footsteps running the other way. Good. This was her chance to get out. He tried the handle, but couldn’t get the thing open with his one good arm. He slammed his hand against the cold metal in frustration. On the other side of the window, Wilson was trembling. He looked like a baby, his lip quivering like that. Frank couldn’t leave until he was sure the threat was ended permanently, and that meant watching while Wilson reattached the white wire, and not giving him a chance to get out of that freezer alive.

“Frank, we gotta go, we gotta go now!” said Karen, running back over to him.

“Karen, get outta here.” What the hell was she still doing in this kitchen? She was in the clear!

“Frank!”

“Karen, you go, go now!” he shouted, angry at her now. Wilson was gonna let go of that switch any second. She needed to be farther away. Why didn’t she ever leave when she should?

“ _Hell_ no!” she retorted, just as angry. “Come on!”

Wilson was holding the detonator up in front of him, hands folded around it like he was praying. The smallest part of Frank felt a twinge of sympathy for this broken soldier. It wasn’t as strong as the part that had imagined all the ways he could’ve killed him. “That’s it, kid,” he said. “You can do it.” Wilson lifted his head high. Here it came. Frank turned and grabbed Karen. They made it three steps before everything behind them erupted in fire and sound, knocking them both off their feet.

X  


Everything hurt, and her ears were ringing again. She felt like the smoke was fogging her brain, not just the air around them. She reached for Frank. He was still moving. His hand came up around her face, large, warm, and callused. “You okay?”

Karen made some noise that probably wasn’t an actual word, nodding. He somehow managed to help her to her feet, even though she had no idea how he was still able to stand in the first place. They looked at what was left of the freezer. The door was covered in gore. She didn’t have time to think about that, though, because Frank was still inside a building crawling with police and ANVIL guards who all likely had orders to shoot him on sight. She’d seen one of the two police officers Lewis had dragged her past running away down the hall when she checked the door before the bomb went off, and she could hear the sound of the second guy’s radio on the other side of the door now.

“Hey,” she said. Frank looked around at her. He still seemed to be shaking off the effects of the explosion. “You have a plan to get out of here, right?” She hadn’t quite caught her breath yet either.

He grunted. “Plan I had calls for two good arms.” He nodded at his right arm, which was hanging awkwardly at his side. She realized he hadn’t done much with it the whole time he’d been in the kitchen.

“Wh—i-is it broken?”

“Dislocated. C’mere.” She went to his side at once. He took her hand and moved it so her thumb was against the inside of his right elbow. “You gotta hold my arm at a right angle. Swivel it out till it stops, then up and around until it pops back in, okay?”

She nodded, swallowing back her nerves. He stood straight, shoulders back and chest out while she did as instructed. She tried not to look at the jagged piece of metal sticking out of his skin a couple inches above her fingers. She winced and glanced at his face whenever she felt resistance from his arm, but he just kept his eyes forward and jaw set. When she brought his arm back around, the pressure built and she could almost feel the pain like it was in her own shoulder, but then there was an audible click as the ball slid back into the socket.

X

Frank exhaled through his nose, rolling his right shoulder. He wouldn’t exactly call it a good arm yet, but he could move it better. Things had gotten louder out in the hall now—shuffling boots of a _lot_ of police getting into position—and Karen still hadn’t let go of him. He looked at her, and time stretched out. She was staring around frantically, from the door to the rest of the kitchen, which had no other exits. He couldn’t tear his eyes away. She’d stayed. She was just as worried about him as he was about her. He still had the image of her face when she pulled the wire with one hand and the trigger with the other in his head. This woman. This fierce, brave, perfect woman. He felt more alive, more human looking at her than he had since...since...

He was at once so mesmerized and so gutted that he almost didn’t notice when she held her gun out for him to take until it was in his hand. He shook himself, staring from the gun back to her. It took him a couple seconds to realize what she was getting at. His mind balked, and he tried to force the gun back into her hands. No way in hell he was doing what her face was telling him to do, even for show. She refused to take it back, pinning him with her determined stare. He gritted his teeth, held the gun up, and, without breaking eye contact, defiantly ejected the cartridge and stuck it in his waistband.

She gave him half a smile and rolled her eyes. He coulda kissed her right there. Instead, he forced himself to hold a gun to her head.

X

The elevator doors finished shutting, and Karen and Frank collapsed against opposite sides of the metal enclosure. Karen felt like she could finally breathe again for the first time since the interview. The cops couldn’t get to him now. He wouldn’t die or get captured for coming to her rescue. She reached for him, just to make sure he was really there. Her hand fell short of his bloody arm, but the move caught his attention. They looked at each other, panting, and nodded. She staggered to the panel and pulled the emergency stop. He stuck the cartridge back in the gun and passed it to her, then took a second to gather himself before shoving the access panel up out of the ceiling.

Karen looked him over, her heart breaking yet again for him. “Frank,” she said as he stared up through the hole. “Frank.” She closed the distance. Blood covered the side of his head from what looked like a bullet graze. He could barely move his right arm even though it was back in joint, and it was bleeding even worse than his head from that piece of shrapnel he caught shielding her. He’d been walking with a limp he didn’t have up in the interview room. And those were just the injuries she could see. She touched one of the few spots on that arm that wasn’t soaked in blood to get a better look. He glanced down at the shrapnel too, as if noticing it for the first time. She bit her lip, trying to hold back tears.

She hadn’t wanted him involved because she’d thought that would mean him killing on her behalf. It had never occurred to her that he would almost get _himself_ killed protecting her. She had cared far too much about this man ever since the day in the hospital when he refused to talk to anyone but her. Using her as bait, leaving her wounded in the wreckage of Ben’s car after he saved her by smashing into it, and even shutting her out so he could murder another man hadn’t changed that. It had just made her wonder if she was the only one of them who cared—if he was just making use of the one person sticking up for him in order to facilitate his retribution.

When he came back out of the blue after almost a year, it was to use her again, but the Punisher’s ruthless soldier mask had slipped. She’d seen what it meant to him that he wasn’t dead to her after what he’d done. Far from using her as bait this time, he’d gone to fairly imaginative lengths to keep her from danger, with that pot of roses and the clandestine meetings. When she abandoned her own mask and hugged him, he’d clung to her like a lifeline. Instead of pushing her roughly away, he begged her to stay back, words failing him as he tried to convey how vital it was that she remained out of harm’s way. So she’d had an inkling before now that she did matter to him. But enough to put his endless quest for revenge on hold so that he could nearly die saving her from an unrelated threat? She felt like a dam had burst, and suddenly the flood of emotions he evoked was too big to fit inside her chest.

He raised his head, and slowly their eyes met again. They’d said many things without words before, starting that first day in the hospital. The unexpected kinship they shared had always been strong enough to make any secrets meaningless. But this was different. His mask was entirely gone now. She could see everything she felt staring right back at her, and she knew he’d recognized it in her too. His gaze flickered to her lips and back up, and she thought one of them might close those last few inches for a kiss.

He did close the distance a moment later, but only to rest his forehead against hers. With the contact, a new emotion calmed the raging torrent inside her. Peace. The absurdity of feeling peaceful while standing in a service elevator with the Punisher right after getting blown up twice and shot at briefly brought a smile to her lips.

This day, this moment, had changed everything and they both knew it. She never wanted it to end, but he wasn’t in the clear yet. This could wait until after, whenever that was. “Go,” she breathed, giving his arm a light squeeze. “Go.”

They leaned apart, gazes locked again. His eyes were red-rimmed and her throat was painfully tight. She managed to offer a reassuring smile. He moved restlessly. “Take care,” he said, then grabbed the edge of the hole and hoisted himself up with a noise that sounded like it was costing him the last of his strength. Tears blurred her final glimpse of him.

She wasn’t able to leave the hotel for another couple of hours. The paramedics had to take a look at her and clean up her meaningless scrapes, Madani had to let her know she was on Frank’s side in this too if he’d let her be, Brett had to take her statement, and she had to retrieve her .380 from ANVIL. Then she had to go to the _Bulletin_ and force a couple thousand words out for Ellison through her exhaustion, because there was no way she was letting anyone who hadn’t been there (or who’d been talking to Ori), from her paper or any other, get a chance to twist the story before she could publish the truth.

When she finally made it back to her apartment, she collapsed onto her bed. She didn’t move for hours, sobbing until her chest ached and saying silent prayers to the God she hadn’t believed in since her brother’s death that the man she loved would make it out of this alive.

**Author's Note:**

> I picked that look in the elevator as the moment when they realize they feel the same way about each other because that's when the background music kicked in, and I can't think of another reason for the background music to kick in right then than to help convey reciprocated and recognized love.
> 
> Now the bit about his shoulder. Yes, canon strongly implies that whatever happened between Frank and Karen standing up after the explosion and them walking out into the hall doing the fake hostage scenario probably only took a few seconds. However, I am a stickler for plausibility, and Frank using his right hand to help hoist himself up to the top of the elevator with his shoulder still out of joint is *not* plausible, nor is him managing that multi-story climb up the ladder to the roof with only one good arm. So I had Karen help him fix it first. As popping a shoulder back into joint can take less than a minute, it didn't seem like too much of a stretch to add that in.
> 
> I'm pretty sure everything I write in this fandom will be in the same continuity until there's new canon material that successfully convinces me this isn't how it happens. So the upcoming post-S1 fic will pretty much stick to everything in this one, and I'll probably have enough written to start posting chapters soon. And there's a companion fic from Matt's perspective as he returns to NYC from wherever he was at the end of Defenders on its way too. I actually started writing that one before any other Marvel Netflix fanfics because I guess I needed to work my way up to being able to write about Frank and Karen from their own points of view.
> 
> Edit: Sometimes I'm dumb and get my right and left mixed up, like in the first draft of this fic. I have now gone back and corrected it so that it's Frank's *right* arm that gets dislocated and torn up by shrapnel, not his left.


End file.
